“And I have news,” he said. “It concerns a certain rapey football player whose pristine white Jeep was given a new paint job by our own resident vigilante.”
I sat up, my pulse kicking. “What did you hear?”
“I heard that said paint job made the local news.”
I frowned. “That shit went down months ago.”
Holden shrugged. “Seems Kimberly’s friends weren’t satisfied with her having to leave town while Mikey struts around school, suffering precisely jack shit in the consequences department.”
“So what’s the deal?” Miller asked.
“Michael ‘Douchebag’ Grimaldi has been booted from the football team,” Holden said, tossing one end of his scarf over his shoulder. “More of a symbolic gesture, given the season’s over, but he’s losing his letter and—word has it—his ticket to Texas A&M has been revoked.”
Miller stared. “No shit? Good.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
He gave me a knowing look. “I have a connection on the football team.”
I sat back in my chair, considering this. On the one hand, fuck Grimaldi. On the other, he and Dowd were friends…
Nah, fuck them both.
I sipped my beer, content. Miller frowned, wearing his usual worried expression.
“What?”
“You think he knows it was you?”
I shrugged. “He might.”
“But even if he does, he can’t prove you tagged his ride.” Holden grinned. “Fucking with jocks is high on my list of favorite things.” He shot me another knowing look. “Right after actually fucking them.”
I got the message, loud and clear.
Whitmore, I swear to fucking God, take care of him…
My phone chimed a text.
Bibi made lasagna. Come over.
My damn heart felt warm. Shiloh hadn’t asked me over to dinner since that day back in September.
She’s letting me in.
Time?
Dinner’s at 7 but U can head over any time.
On my way.
I stood up, tucked my phone in the back pocket of my jeans, and drained my beer. “I’m out.”
“What?” Holden screeched. “Where are you going? It’s early.”
“Where do you think he’s going?” Miller coughed into his fist, “Pussywhipped.”
Holden snickered.
“I think I hear Evelyn Gonzalez calling, Stratton,” I said, putting on my jacket. “She has some hair gel options for your next video.”
Miller laid his middle finger to his cheek. “Look into my eye…”
We exchanged grins and I strode out, Holden calling after me.
“Have fun! Use protection! And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! Actually, that doesn’t leave much. Don’t do anything illegal! Nope, that doesn’t work either…”
I chuckled and shook my head, and then the sound of the ocean washed him out as I walked to Shiloh.
I arrived a little after six. Bibi was on her way out the front door with another elderly lady. She hugged me and smacked a kiss on my cheek.
“Ronan Wentz, this is Esther Morris. She’s taking me to visit a friend down the street. Shiloh’s in the back, working. Lasagna’s in the oven, still baking. I’ll be back in twenty minutes, so don’t you bother with it.”
“Sure thing.”
She smiled. “So happy to have you, sweet boy.”
I jammed my hands in my pockets. “Thanks.”
Esther gave me and my tattoos a quick once-over, then guided Bibi out the front door.
I found Shiloh in the shed, sitting at her table. The night was warm; she wore a sundress in deep blue. A lantern hung above her in the twilight, making her skin glow. Her expression was tight with concentration.
Fuck, she was too beautiful. Too much for a poor bastard like me. And yet when she felt me watching her, she lifted her head and her face lit up, became more beautiful.
Then she caught herself and turned her tone casual. “Hey, you.”
I joined her in the shed, sitting on the other side of her. I watched as she pressed a plate of silver about the size of a playing card onto a small anvil that was attached to the table with a bench pin. The silver plate was etched with a rose design, and Shiloh was using a jeweler’s saw—its blade as thin as string—to cut it out.
“I feel you watching me,” she said with a faint smile, not looking up as she sawed and turned the plate, the blade following the lines of the rose exactly.
“Fucking amazing.”
Her deep brown eyes flickered up to me, then back to her work. “Don’t say things like that. I’ll mess up.”
But she didn’t. The last piece was cut away and she was left with a silver rose as large as the palm of her hand.
“You’re just going to watch?” she asked as she picked up her hand torch and soldered on a tiny loop of silver to the back.
“For now.”
Shiloh’s lips parted in a little gasp. “Damn, Ronan…”
My blood heated and I waited, my hands itching to touch her. To strip her naked in the twilight and spread her over the table. No, not a goddamn table. Or her car. Or the Shack. In the last month, we’d never fucked in a bed. Never been fully naked. I couldn’t take her to my place and Shiloh hadn’t offered hers. Our way of trying to slow things down.
Stupid.
I was all in. And if I thought about it, I’d gone all in for this girl the first damn minute I laid eyes on her.
“Nearly done.” She took up a string of smoky quartz beads and held the rose against them. “The backing needs to cool before I can string it, but not bad, eh? I kind of like how it turned out.”
She glanced up to see me watching her, drinking her in. Her eyes flared and she carefully set the necklace aside and moved around the table to sit in my lap. Her hands went into my hair. I fucking loved her hands in my hair. She’d changed hers a few weeks ago—the microbraids were replaced by thicker ones she called box braids.
More for me to grip.
“Bibi went to visit a friend down the street,” I said. “We have twenty minutes.”
Shiloh’s fingertips traced my lips. “Mmm, you can do a lot of damage in twenty minutes. Shut the door.”
She stood up while I did as she asked, and then we reached for each other in the dim space, the lantern casting a yellow light. I took a handful of thicker, soft braids and gently pulled her head back, exposing her throat. Her pulse was a flickering beat in the hollow of her collarbone. I put my mouth there, savoring the taste of her that was salty and sweet.
“God, Ronan…How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Make me so wet for you.”
Her fingers raked through my hair, cradling my head and moaning as I worked over the delicate skin of her neck, biting, grazing, licking, until I was at her mouth again. I kissed her deep, my tongue exploring every corner, tasting her until we were both out of breath.
Our eyes met and she nodded.
I spun her around and held her to me, my hands kneading her perfect tits, my mouth on the delicate skin behind her ear, biting. She gasped and braced herself on the table.
“Please, Ronan. Hurry…”
I slid my hands down her back and hiked up her dress. Her ass was fucking perfect too, smooth and tight, a lacy thong the only thing between me and what I wanted.